The Hoppin' Frogs
by Pellegrina
Summary: !OBS: 2ND CHAPTER ADDED! A night out in Austin provides a truly unexpected surprise for Teresa Lisbon. Takes place some time after the episode "Violets" and contains spoilers for 6.17 to 6.19.
1. Chapter 1

**This is one of the approximately 10 000 000 ways I've come up with in my head about how to finally get Jane and Lisbon together. It contains spoilers for episodes 6.17 to 6.19, I presume. So if you don't want to be spoilt - stop here. This one-shot was inspired by some discussion on Tumblr in the wake of the episode Violets and it can be read as some sort of tag if you want. **

**I'm not a native speaker, this is un-betaed and was written in the space of only a few hours. So please forgive me for any mistakes you might find.**

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**Disclaimer: If The Mentalist belonged to me - I'd not be here on fanfic net coming up with ways to finally get our beloved leads together. I would have made it happen in canon ages ago! ... so no, not mine... and neither are the other works mentioned/quoted in this story.**

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**)T(H)F(**

**The Hoppin' Frogs**

**)T(H)F(**

Their shared lunch hour on Friday was nearly over when Marcus asked, "Do you wanna go out tomorrow, Teresa? I know, you said you need some time alone to think over that job offer in DC and everything, but it's been a while since we've been out on a real date."

Lisbon cast a tentative smile at her boyfriend of three months and replied, "Okay. But I really need that alone time on Sunday, Marcus. Do you have anything specific in mind for our date? You have that look, you know…?"

"What look? I think you've spent entirely too much time with Jane if you're already figuring out all of my expressions."

She chuckled only half-heartedly. She never liked it when Marcus mentioned Jane. "Well, sorry, but your game face is not exactly worthy of a poker champion. So where do you wanna go tomorrow night?"

He grinned. "Have you heard of **_Miss Sippi_**? It's a very popular jazz club in town."

"Yes, I have heard about it from someone. Can't remember who. I've never been there though. But you don't like that kind of music, Marcus."

He sent his warmest smile in her direction. "But I know that you love it, honey. And you remember my friend Tony?"

She nodded. "That's the guy with the garage, right?"

"Yes. He and especially his wife Melly love jazz. And he told me that there's this one band playing every other Saturday. Apparently they are the new stars of the scene in Austin. Everybody goes there when they play. I thought we could check it out tomorrow. What do you say?"

"Sounds great! It's been ages since I heard good live jazz. Can't wait! Thanks for being so thoughtful, Marcus. I hope it won't be too dreadful for you."

He smiled warmly again. "It could never be as long as you're there with me."

As usual his open admiration and obvious affection filled her both with happiness and with unease.

* * *

The next evening Marcus came by Lisbon's cozy little townhouse. He complimented her comfy but still stylish outfit and led her to his car – a sensible station wagon. Sensible because Marcus played goalie on the FBI hockey team and needed a lot of gear.

They made their way mid town and ended up standing in a long queue outside a homey looking club. The name _**Miss Sippi**_ in blue neon letters adorned the front above the entrance, the silhouette of a saxophone player in the same color framed the door on the left side.

Lisbon was astonished at the big crowd waiting to get inside. It took nearly half an hour for them to make it in and she had the strong impression that if the doorman hadn't taken a shine to her, they might not have managed at all. Right after they'd entered, he'd declared the night to be sold out. Upon seeing all the people inside, she would have rather called it chock-full.

With the help of their elbows they made it over to the bar and got a couple of beers. A dark skinned, chubby lady in her fifties was playing the piano and singing blues songs, but they realized immediately that this was only the warming up for the main attraction of the evening. There was no chance for them to get a table, so they decided to find a relatively roomy spot to stand which still gave them a mostly unobstructed view of the stage. Marcus stood behind her with her back pressed against his chest. He had one arm around her waist, the other held his beer bottle.

"Never knew that so many people are into jazz," he shouted into her ear in order to be heard over the cacophony of music and voices filling the club. The interior was made of dark wood and mostly lit by candles. It was a very snug, inviting place that made one want to stay. Even Pike couldn't deny the lure of the atmosphere. "It's really a nice location."

"I'm surprised myself," she shouted back. "Usually these clubs aren't all that packed. But it's an incredible place. I already love it."

* * *

Half an hour later the lady who'd played the piano got up and grabbed a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming. For those who're here for the first time, I'm Mathilda and this is my club." Roaring applause answered her. She smiled a big, open mouthed smile, revealing perfectly white teeth. "Ah, thanks. You're a great crowd tonight, I can see it. Anyway, we all know why you're here and that's not to hear me talk. So let me introduce the main act of the evening. Please give a warm welcome to our special house band. Ladies and Gentlemen, here for your entertainment tonight **T****he Hoppin' Frogs**!"

The place erupted in ear-splitting clapping, trampling, whistling and cheering while the band consisting of six men took their places on stage.

* * *

Lisbon did a double take, then another one, and then her eyes almost fell out of their sockets: amongst the five dark heads of the Afro-American band members the familiar golden curls of the sixth musician stuck out like a halo in the night. Clad in perfect fitting blue jeans and a dark grey-blue shirt, hair looking fluffy and shiny, a true smile on his lips and a bass guitar lazily hanging from his shoulders Patrick Jane was standing at the back of the stage looking for all the world like the dream image of a rock star.

"The bassist looks a bit like Jane," Marcus blurted out cheerfully.

Lisbon took a big mouthful of beer, swallowed heavily and tried desperately to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "That IS Jane," she croaked.

"What?" Marcus exclaimed surprised. "I thought you said he never does anything but sulking around at the office after hours. You never mentioned that he's playing in a band."

"I didn't know," Lisbon admitted, a deep sense of shame settling in her stomach.

"Wow, okay," Pike replied a bit uncertainly.

They had to stop their talking at that point because the band had started to play and it became immediately clear to Lisbon why **The Hoppin' Frogs** were so popular: they were breath-taking. She had seen her share of jazz combos, had been an avid guest at many clubs in the San Fran Bay Area during her time there and also later when she'd already been living in Sacramento.

She had come to love jazz ever since starting to play the clarinet in High School and the sax at college – a natural progression considering that both instruments had a very similar key work. The soulful music had been a great comfort to her during hard times in her life. Her love for jazz had drawn her more and more to the sax and she'd dabbled into a bit of jamming with some friends too back in college.

What she heard at _**Miss Sippi**_ tonight however was some of the best jazz she'd ever encountered. Not so much due to the individual quality of the musicians – they were all clearly amateurs – but because they were so incredibly good together. Sparks seemed to be flying amongst their instruments – a piano, a trumpet, a sax, a guitar, a bass, a drum set, and vocals – igniting the whole club in a matter of minutes. People couldn't stop their bodies from moving to the rhythm of the music and from losing themselves in the beautiful soundscape. **The Hoppin' Frogs** were perfectly in synch with each other, so much so that even their improvisations seemed to originate from one mind.

But Lisbon wasn't only enchanted by the music. What truly overwhelmed her was the sight of Jane playing the bass – sometimes an electric one, sometimes the acoustic version – looking perfectly happy and content, eyes shining, mouth smiling, expression open and unguarded, lost in the songs they were playing. She could only remember him being so happy once before: when they'd seen each other again for the first time after his two years on the lam.

* * *

The band concluded the first part of their set after about an hour with the blues song 'Kansas City', which nearly made the already emotional Lisbon shed some tears at the memory of a shared moment with her consultant that suddenly seemed half a lifetime away and yet so close. The words 'God, how I've missed him, missed this,' flashed through her head.

"Grab a drink, use the john, but don't leave yet! **The Hoppin' Frogs** will be back with you in thirty minutes," the lead vocalist who also played the guitar announced after the song was finished.

Lisbon excused herself to the toilet. She needed a moment to compose herself. Five minutes and some cold water to her face later she felt strong enough to face Marcus. Her way back brought her close to the bar where none other than Patrick Jane was leaning, sipping at a bottle of beer and chatting with the barkeeper. She tried to get past him without him noticing.

* * *

Patrick Jane was as at peace with the world as he could possibly get these days (which wasn't saying that much). Once again he congratulated himself on joining **The Hoppin' Frogs** all those months ago – against all odds, because they had certainly not had a blond, white guy in mind when they'd hung up their search note for a jazz bassist. Making music with his newfound friends once or twice a week was the highlight of his life. The rest of it was deteriorating before his eyes, but these hours of bliss made it all at least bearable.

Now standing at the bar during the break (and fighting off the female attention he got in spades) that strange feeling he'd had in his stomach all night suddenly grew tenfold in strength. Then a whiff of cinnamon reached his nose and he knew: Lisbon was here.

He felt his heart constricting with both pain and happiness at the same time and without conscious control he turned around in the direction the smell had come from. Lisbon stood before him rooted to the spot with the look of a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hi Lisbon. Fancy meeting you here," he said, trying and completely failing to sound nonchalant. "You come here often?"

She stared at him as if she'd seen a ghost. "I… ah," she stammered helplessly.

He smiled at her and made a come hither gesture with his pointer finger. She took a step closer to him because with the noise level the only way to have a conversation was to stand very close. "May I buy you a drink, Lisbon? You look like you need one," he asked, eyes warm and inviting. Her heart missed several beats and she could only manage a nod. "Beer or something a bit stronger?" he inquired with a wink that made her knees go weak.

'Good god help me! That guy looks and smells absolutely heavenly tonight. This is bad,' she thought. Taking a deep, calming breath and scolding herself for behaving like an idiot, she finally regained her footing enough to answer. "Beer's fine, thanks."

He handed her the cold, fogged bottle, touching her fingers in the process, making her gasp. The light contact felt like an electric current reaching every single nerve cell in her body, short-circuiting her higher brain functions for a minute. "So, what brought you here tonight?" the blond god in front of her asked.

"Date. I mean, I'm here on a date," she spluttered.

"Ah yes, of course," Jane replied and the lights went out in his eyes.

She didn't like it one bit. "I didn't even know you were playing in a band, Jane," she blurted out.

He shrugged. "Guess, it didn't come up," he said in a noncommittal tone.

"But how long have you been doing it?" she inquired, her face showing confusion and something else he wasn't sure how to read.

"I started a couple of weeks after I was so graciously freed from my comfy detention suite," he offered merrily.

"What?" she exclaimed. "That long? But you're not ready to do things like that. I mean, you're still not making any headway moving on," she rambled, looking incredulous.

He shrugged again. "If you say so."

"What's that supposed to mean?" was her miffed reaction.

"It means that you have no idea what I'm feeling or doing," he stated. "You're only assuming and you're assuming wrong."

"But I…" She was stumped, truly stumped.

He nodded. "Yes, you were otherwise occupied. I know. It's alright."

"No, it's not!" She huffed. "This is all wrong. You're not making any lasting ties. You're still ready to run whenever you please with your stupid Airstream. And you have no life outside of the FBI. You're stuck in neutral with your damn wedding band and… and… and…" She bristled with anger, eyes flashing dangerously.

Jane shrugged once more. "If you say so," he said again.

"Stop saying that," she replied. "I… explain!" she pleaded. "Please, Jane."

"Okay, no problem," he answered. "I am back to stay, Lisbon. I never said differently. I came back to be with you and I'm trying to move on with my life. That's it. What else do you want to know?"

"But the Airstream and… and…," she stammered, still completely baffled.

"What about the Airstream?" he asked.

"You asked for it so you could disappear whenever you want." Her look contained a clear challenge.

"No," was his simple reply.

"It's the only logical explanation," she stated, brows furrowed. "You wanted to have it so you can run away from me again."

He shook his head, his eyes expressing a deep sadness. "I'm sorry you think that. But it doesn't make it true. Look, Teresa, my childhood might not have been all that great but an Airstream is still the only other home I have ever had apart from the one I built with Angela. It's the closest thing to a home I can imagine to have at the moment. And besides, it's really practical in the field. I can even feel at home while I'm forced to be on the road all the time. In our line of work that's actually smarter than having a normal apartment or something like that."

She gaped at him, truly gaped at him in open mouthed shock. "You… you actually got it so you'd have a real home?" she finally managed to ask. "I… I never… it honestly never crossed my mind." She swallowed heavily. In a whisper she inquired, "And you're really building a life here in Austin?"

Jane nodded. "As much as is possible in our job. This whole traveling around business doesn't exactly make it easy. But if playing in a band, a season ticket to the local opera house, and a library card count as lasting ties – I'd say, yes, I'm building a life here."

"But why don't I know about this? Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him sadly.

"It's a bit hard to talk to someone who isn't around long enough to listen," he replied dolefully. "Look, I'm sorry, Lisbon, but I have to leave now. We're going back on stage in a few minutes. See ya."

He got up and left. Dazed she remained where she was for a long moment before making her way back to Marcus who'd watched her talking with Jane and decided to stay where he was.

* * *

"Hey Rick," Joe, the vocalist of **The Hoppin' Frogs** greeted the bassist backstage, where the band was reconvening after the break. "Who was the lovely lady you talked with at the bar? Never seen you interested in any of the dozens of girls who always seem to be drawn to you like flies to honey."

Jane's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, just someone I work with," was his noncommittal answer.

The band leader stepped closer, sporting a knowing look. "I see. She's the one, right, Rickyboy?"

"What do you mean? Which one?" Jane inquired with slight irritation.

"Your rose," the dark-skinned man stated, not the least bit fazed by Jane's reaction. "You think I'm stupid, man? We've known each other for a while now. Have become friends even. Right, mate?" Jane acknowledged it with a nod. "Well, Rick. I'm a jazz and blues singer. Don't you think I recognize heart ache when I see it?"

The blond man sighed. "Okay, you got me there, Joe. And while we're at it: I can't do it tonight, okay?"

Joe shook his head and patted Jane's shoulder. "Au contraire, my friend. I won't let you chicken out. Let's go out there and blow 'em all away."

* * *

When the band returned to the stage Lisbon didn't know whether to run and hide or try to enjoy seeing her best friend in his new reality which she clearly hadn't allowed herself to be a part of. She stood beside Marcus who didn't understand why she suddenly seemed completely opposed to physical contact. He wasn't stupid, of course, and thus he had a good idea that whatever was going on with Teresa was somehow connected to Jane. That guy had a way of getting under your skin. And to be honest, Marcus had still not managed to figure out just what kind of relationship his girlfriend had with the other man.

**The Hoppin' Frogs** started to play again and for the first half hour Lisbon was in a complete stupor, her eyes never leaving the bassist. She was conscious enough, however, to see that Jane didn't look as carefree and happy as before their encounter and the thought of her being the cause of it hurt her more than she could describe. Watching him was still enchanting and after a while she couldn't resist the magic of the music any longer and she let herself be pulled fully into it again.

About an hour after the break Joe, the lead vocalist, addressed the audience with a big smile. "As you all know, now right before we stop for today, we've finally come to the real reason most of you are here tonight." The crowd started to get even more ecstatic than before – something Lisbon hadn't thought possible. "Ah, yes, ladies. The wait is over at long last. But let me first introduce you to the members of our wonderful combo. On the piano my blues brother Lionel. On the saxophon my blues bother Lee. My blues brother Sam on the drums and the guy with the trumpet is my blues brother Jimmy. And last but certainly not least the guy with the contrabass, Rick, my youngest blues brother – oh yes, he is, though he was obviously accidentally switched at birth." The crowd laughed roaringly. Joe winked and added, "Hey, but at least he got the family curls." Another round of laughter followed. "Well, anyway, folks, time for me to step back and leave the center of the stage because as you all probably already know – this last one is calling for the voice of someone else. Please enjoy our most popular piece." He turned around and took a few steps back. "Rick?" He motioned for Jane to take the mic.

To the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd the FBI consultant took the center of the stage. He cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the drummer Sam, giving him the signal for the get-go. Then his eyes made out Lisbon in the audience and his intense, loving gaze never left her again and spellbound her. A distinct rataplan resounded and the following dead silence was broken a moment later by the hauntingly beautiful, mesmerizing tenor voice of Patrick Jane, opening an entrancing blues version of a well-known song:

"There's a yellow rose in Texas that I am gonna see / Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me / She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart / And if I ever find her we never more will part

She's the sweetest little rosebud that Texas ever knew / Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew / You may talk about your Clementine and sing of Rosa Lee / But the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only girl for me.

Where the Rio Grande is flowin', and starry skies are bright / She walks along the river in the quiet summer night / I know that she remembers when we parted long ago / I promised to return and not to leave her so

She's the sweetest little rosebud that Texas ever knew / Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew / You may talk about your Clementine and sing of Rosa Lee / But the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only girl for me.

Oh, now I'm gonna find her, for my heart is full of woe / We'll do the things together we did so long ago / We'll play the banjo gaily, she'll love me like before / And the Yellow Rose of Texas shall be mine forevermore

She's the sweetest little rosebud that Texas ever knew / Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew / You may talk about your Clementine and sing of Rosa Lee / But the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only girl for me."

* * *

When the last tones of the yearningly beautiful version of the song had finally faded out, a moment of awestricken silence was followed by the most rapturous applause of the whole night while Lisbon stood motionless, unchecked tears running down her cheeks.

Marcus Pike cast one sideways glance at her and simply stated, "I guess, you'll not be going to DC with me," before he turned around and left.

**The End**

)T(H)F(

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Reviews and comments are very welcome and much appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**By popular demand: here's a second chapter of my Hoppin' Frogs. Well, actually I let myself be shamelessly bribed into continuing by PetitJ who promised me a drawing for this story if I wrote another chapter. My muse obviously found that very convincing - so here we go. **

**Besides, recent spoilers just increased my need to put things right between Jane and Lisbon in my mind tenfold, because TPTB don't seem very inclined to do so... :-(**

**Thanks to all the people who sent me such incredibly nice reviews for the first chapter, especially to the guest reviewers who I couldn't thank personally. It means a lot to me (and all the other writers on this site) to get feedback like that and I appreciate it very much.**

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**)T(H)F(**

**The Hoppin' Frogs are hopping some more...**

**)T(H)F(**

Around her a pandemonium was taking place with people scurrying, preparing to leave or get new drinks now that the main event of the evening was over. Inside her paralyzing chaos reigned.

* * *

Jane had a hard time keeping an eye on Lisbon in the hustle and bustle going on in the club after **The Hoppin' Frogs** had finished for the night with 'The Yellow Rose Of Texas'. The slightly elevated stage gave him a better view however, so he saw her small figure still rooted to the spot in the middle of the moving crowd even several minutes after the song was over.

With growing concern he stepped down and made his way in her direction – the sea of bodies opening in a clear path for him despite the tightness of the space. But his status as a popular member of the band and the visible resolve in his demeanor, the natural authority that had always helped him to command any crowd and the aura of determination with which he moved, making a beeline for Lisbon's position, had approximately the same effect as god's intervention dividing the Red Sea for Moses and his people according to biblical myth.

"Lisbon?" he asked quietly when he'd reached the shell-shocked woman.

His gentle voice brought her out of her daze and she looked up into his warm, concerned, ocean-green eyes. With the last bit of her willpower she closed the small gap between them and pressed her face against his chest. His arms came around her immediately, hers followed suit a moment later. She pulled him to her as hard and as tight as she could, almost robbing him of the ability to breathe. He didn't mind.

When he sensed that she was calming down a bit, he got a clean white hanky out of his jeans pocket and dangled it in front of her face. Gratefully she took it and couldn't help but smile through her tears. Patrick Jane was most certainly the only person she could imagine owning a hanky made of Egyptian cotton with his initials embroidered into one corner. Encountering one of his endearing quirks made her tear up again. 'That hanky did really come in handy,' she thought and snorted at her own idiocy.

A big, elegant, strong, beautiful hand cupped her cheek gently and forced her head to turn upwards a bit. "You okay?" he asked her, voice barely above a whisper and sounding husky.

The remaining wetness in her green eyes made them sparkle like jewels. It almost took his breath away. She nodded.

* * *

Putting light pressure on the small of her back he carefully steered her in the direction of the backstage area and out of the scrutinizing, prying gazes of the guests. The other members of **The Hoppin' Frogs** didn't need to be told to grant them some privacy. They moved to huddle together in one corner at once when they saw their bassist enter with the distraught woman in his arms. Joe gave him a thumbs up and an encouraging nod, eliciting a small smile from Jane.

Patrick led Lisbon over to a chair and pushed her into it with great gentleness. He hunkered down so his eyes would be level with hers. Tentatively he took hold of one of her hands, carefully watching her reaction, ready to slip it at a moment's notice if necessary. But she squeezed his in return and entwined their fingers. A look of awe suddenly crossed her face and her gaze wandered down to their joined hands. "You're not wearing it," she croaked out, throat dry from crying.

"I haven't done for a while now," he said evenly.

New tears moistened her eyes. "I didn't notice," she whispered, voice full of sadness. "I'm so sorry, Jane."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Teresa. I didn't exactly advertise it. It's okay." He sent her a warm smile, but there was no denying the dismay in his eyes.

"No!" she replied fiercely, indignation visible all over her face. "It's important. It's a big deal. It's important to you. You're my friend. I should've noticed immediately. I used to notice such things." Grief filled her heart. "Why didn't I notice?" she whispered brokenly.

His thumb caressed the back of her hand. "Self-preservation, I presume," he provided quietly. "I understand that. I'm scared shitless myself." He cleared his throat and looked right into her eyes. "And just to be entirely clear, Teresa. This here tonight, this is me putting my heart on the line. I've been trying to tell you through my actions for a while now because I thought you'd understand. You know, more than words and all that. But I guess after the mess I've made of everything – it wasn't enough."

He took a deep breath while she continued to stare at him in wide-eyed reverence. "I made you my first term not because I wanted to control your life. I wanted the smartest, kindest, most beautiful cop-lady in the world to have a chance to get the job she deserves. I did it also to be with you because I love you with all that's left of my heart and I need you." He swallowed audibly before he went on in a husky whisper, "I know that you've probably given up on me. But your reaction tonight gives me a little hope, my sweet, little rosebud."

A tear leaked out of her eye and ran down her cheek until it was stopped by the thumb belonging to Jane's right hand. She smiled at him through her tears, a smile full of hope and love and promise. Slowly he leaned in, a questioning, tentatively hopeful look in his eyes. She gave a subtle nod. It was enough encouragement for him to close the gap between them.

Their lips finally met. Just a light contact at first, but still enough to lead to an explosion. With a deep, feral growl Lisbon buried her hands in the soft curls at Jane's nape and pulled him into her, barely any restraint left in her. Her tongue took possession of his mouth, her lips tried to eat him. Years of longing, frustration, love, and lust seemed to erupt into this earth shattering kiss.

His reaction wasn't any less forceful but he gave over control to Lisbon, knowing it was what she needed right now. And he had nothing to complain about. His heart beat like the rataplan so characteristic for the song that had brought them together at long last. He'd rarely ever been that happy in his life. He pulled her closer, couldn't get enough of the feeling of her body pressed to his and their joined mouths uniting them.

* * *

With her leaning into him and him pulling her close it was only a matter of time before the still crouching Jane lost his balance. He ended up on his back with Lisbon sprawled all over him. Their lips never lost contact – a feat their involuntary but mesmerized audience decided to honor with a round of wild clapping and wolf whistles.

A silver bucket full of ice-cold water would've probably had the same effect. Lisbon and Jane came to their senses with a wince, blushing like teenagers but grinning at each other like loons. She pecked him on the lips a last time, got up and offered him a hand to help him up. He took it. As soon as he was back on his feet, he pulled her into one final hug before he led her over to his friends.

"Way to go, Rick!" Joe greeted him with enthusiasm, a big, toothy smile splitting his face.

Lisbon hoped that showman Jane would make an appearance at that point because she felt completely tongue-tied and a bit shy. And really, Jane beamed at his newfound friends. "Sorry, we scarred you for life," he said cheerfully, not sounding the least bit sorry.

"Scarred us for life, man?" Lionel, the pianist looked at them with incredulity. "That was the real blues, bro. And hot as hell in the end."

Lisbon blushed even more, but risked to cast a few bashful glances at the members of **The Hoppin' Frogs**. The five men were all in their late forties to early fifties and they all looked fondly at Jane, telling her that these people had come to care for her – whatever he was right now – quite a lot. 'He's really made new friends,' she thought in awe.

Jane lay an arm around her waist. "This is Teresa, the most beautiful, lovely, and generous woman I've ever had the honor of encountering in my life. She also happens to be the woman I love with all my heart."

That, she hadn't expected: sincere, open, honest Jane. And she wasn't sure she'd ever blushed so much before. All she managed was a hapless "Hi," that made her long for the ground to open and swallow her.

"It's okay," he whispered in her ear. "They're all friends. No reason to be embarrassed. I'm only telling the truth after all."

The band leader Joe decided to step in and take the initiative to defuse the situation before it could become truly awkward. "I think, this calls for a celebration. Come on, guys, let's get back into the club. Should be almost empty by now. I'm sure Matty won't mind us staying a while longer."

"She better not," Jim, the trumpeter, piped up. "We got her a shit-load of money tonight."

"I heard that," the charismatic, resolute lady Lisbon recognized as Mathilda, the owner of the club, announced from the doorway, arms akimbo, her brows raised in challenge, but with a teasing smile on her lips. Stepping all the way into the room she looked around, her gaze finally settling on Lisbon, who managed another halting "Hi".

"So, what's the occasion?" the dark skinned woman asked.

"Rick finally got his girl," Joe told her.

"Ah," Mathilda uttered with a satisfied nod. She examined Lisbon from top to toe. "So, you're Rosie then?" And in Jane's direction she added, "Nice catch, Blondie."

Lisbon felt a moment of intense pain in her heart. Who the hell was Rosie? Had Jane met another woman? She pulled herself together and said, "Sorry but I'm Teresa, not Rosie."

The chubby woman patted Lisbon's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Oh no, sweetie, don't you worry. Rosie is just the name I came up with in my head. You know, for the woman who's made that white booty here, our Ricky, sing with such yearning passion and true blues in his voice. His Yellow Rose, you know?" She bent over and pecked Jane on the cheek. "Now I understand why you could've melted stones with that song today, honey." Her smiled could have lit a candle. "Boys? This calls for champagne. My treat. Come on, come on!"

* * *

**The Hoppin' Frogs**, Mathilda, and Teresa sat down around a table. Champagne glasses appeared and the sparkling liquid flowed like water. In no time any awkwardness she might have felt before had left Lisbon. Jane's friends very a really nice bunch of people, funny and kind, and they did their best to include her. She was astonished to learn through the course of the conversation that they obviously knew about Patrick's past, including the fact that he'd killed a man with his bare hands.

The talking turned to band matters after a while and when Jane blabbed that Lisbon used to play the clarinet, she was invited to play with the band some time. She admitted that she was seriously out of practice and couldn't possibly keep up with them. Lee, the saxophonist, immediately offered her a few lessons to get back into the swing of things. The thought of taking up her old, beloved hobby and to be able to share her passion for jazz with Jane filled her heart with a deep sense of happiness and she accepted Lee's offer.

"How did you end up in the combo anyway, Ja… Patrick?" she inquired a while later ('calling him by his given name would take some getting used to,' she thought).

"Yeah, how the hell did that happen, Ricky?" Joe asked teasingly.

Jane sported a shit-eating grin. "Yeah, how?"

Teresa snorted. "Let me guess: he conned you into it?"

"You could say that," Jim replied. "Let me tell ya: last thing we wanted was some smug, white dude. And yet, here we are." The whole group chuckled.

The pianist Lionel, the most reserved member of the band who'd thawed out considerably after a glass of champagne or two, chimed in at that point, "Well actually, I'd say it wasn't so much conning us but rather scaring us into taking him." He grinned.

"Now you've really made me curious," Lisbon said. "Not that I'm the least bit surprised… Come on, guys, what's the story?"

"Oh, I found this note pinned to a lamppost about a band looking for a jazz bassist," Jane explained with an amused smile. "Went to the audition, did what needed to be done and was hired on the spot. Easy-peasy. "

Lisbon snorted. "Yeah, right. Somehow I have a hard time believing that."

"And rightly so," Joe replied merrily. "The thing took place right here at the club. We have our rehearsal room downstairs. We'd had five guys audition already that day and it had been a real disaster. And then there was only that white guy left sitting at the bar and we thought, hey, didn't Matty make sure that no normal patrons got in? We were really frustrated and about to call it a night when the cocky, blonde dude invited himself right in."

* * *

_**Eight months ago**_

The five members of **The Hoppin' Frogs** were deeply disappointed. No suitable candidate had appeared this time around either and they really needed a bassist and fast. They stood together, discussed the events of the last two hours and had to conclude that they really couldn't use any of the people who'd showed up, even if by now they were desperate enough to make some allowances.

"No offense, guys, but I'm running a bit out of patience here," a curly blond man in a grey suit – also sporting a shirt with a floral pattern – announced from the doorway. "I mean, Mr. I-Love-Music-But-Hate-People left thirteen minutes and," he checked his wrist watch, "47 seconds ago. Isn't it about time to ask me in?"

Joe turned around and looked at the man they'd seen hanging around upstairs. "You're white," he stated with frown. "And you don't have a bass with you."

The other man took this as his cue to come into the room. "Very astute," he replied with a smirk. "Can't do much about the color of my skin but I'm absolutely inclined to remedy the second shortcoming. Work prevented me from doing it before meeting up here today. But most bands have some instruments lying around, so I figured I'd be fine for the time being."

"Sorry, but we already found someone else. Thanks for your interest though," Joe hurried to say, trying to get rid of the weird man.

"Oh please!" The stranger snorted. "The first guy thinks he's the new Paul McCartney which – in his eyes – more than makes up for his tight schedule that only allows him to grant you the great honor of his presence for a gig or two a year. The second one – apart from having terrible taste in neckties – has just bought that ridiculously expensive bass guitar most recommended by the magazine 'Chord' in the hope that it would compensate for his total lack of any musical talent. Which leads us to nominee number three who is going to have his first bass lesson next week or so. But since he's always been a fast learner, he assumes he'll be more than ready to outshine you all on stage in a couple of months. Prospect number four just came by to tell you that real instruments are totally outdated and that he would gladly program some really cool bass stuff for you on his shiny new laptop. And I presume that Mr. I-Love-Music-But-Hate-People absolutely knows his way around a bass. Just too bad that playing in a jazz band requires human interaction too."

The rest of the band members had joined the two men at that point and gaped at the blond male who cast a smug look at Joe, the band leader, challenging him to deny the truth of his deductions. "How the hell do you know all that stuff? Did you listen in or something?" Sam inquired, irritation visible on his face.

"You know that the door is soundproof," Lee chimed in. "He must've talked with the others while they waited together upstairs."

Mathilda Sipp, the owner of _**Miss Sippi**_, who'd come down to check what had become of the blond man, appeared in the doorway. "Nope. He didn't talk with any of the other guys. I was there the whole time. This one here asked for tea, of all things, and just sat there looking about."

"Well then, how did you know?" Sam asked the newcomer again with a skeptical expression.

"Just paying attention," the light-skinned man replied merrily. "Now can we get on with business? As we've just established: you still need a bassist. I'm offering my services."

* * *

_**Present day.**_

"As you can imagine, we were all extremely enamored with Rick right away," Joe stated in a sarcastic tone. "But I thought, what the hell, best way to get rid of him is probably to just get it over with. So I asked him to tell us a bit about himself."

"Yeah, and that led right to the scary part." Lionel chuckled. "Rick just went like: hey, is this supposed to be story time or an audition? And Joe said, well, it's also important to know a bit about the other's life. And, as we also witnessed tonight, Rick's all about expressing important stuff with songs. So he asked to burrow a bass guitar, said, it'd be the easiest way to tell the story of his life. One song would be enough, he promised."

Teresa snickered. "One song? Enough to explain his life? Hardly…"

"Hey," Patrick complained. "I can be very concise."

"So which song would that be?" Lisbon inquired, her curiosity peaking.

"Man, he really got our attention with that one," Jim offered, a big grin on his face. "Story of his life alright! And back then we didn't even know it was actually pretty much the truth…"

The five original members of **The Hoppin' Frogs** and Matty shared a roaring laughter.

"Okay, I'm dying here. Just which song did he play?" Teresa asked impatiently.

"Know what? I think you should do it again now, Rickyboy. For old times' sake," Joe suggested.

Jane sighed. "Nah. I don't know."

"Oh come on. It'd be fun," the band leader coaxed him. "I'll get my guitar too and play right along with you. But you'll sing. Deal?"

The rest of the party joined in, pleading and wheedling until Patrick relented. He and Joe got their instruments. Lisbon sat in excited anticipation with no idea what to expect. Jane played a short intro on the bass and then he began to sing in a haunting voice:

"I shot the sheriff / But I didn't shoot no deputy, oh no! Oh! / I shot the sheriff / But I didn't shoot no deputy. / Yeah! All around in my home town, / They're tryin' to track me down; / They say, they want to bring me in guilty / For the killing of a deputy, / For the life of a deputy. /But I say:

Oh, now, now. Oh! / I shot the sheriff – the sheriff. / But I swear it was in self-defense. / Oh, no! Yeah! / I say: I shot the sheriff – Oh, Lord! – And they say it is a capital offense. Yeah!

Sheriff Red John always hated me, / For what, I don't know: / Every time I plant a seed, / He said, kill it before it grows – He said kill them before they grow.

Read it in the news: / I shot the sheriff. Oh, Lord! / But I swear it was in self-defense. / Where was the deputy? / I say: I shot the sheriff, / But I swear it was in self-defense. Oo-oh. Yeah!

Freedom came my way one day / And I started out of town, yeah! / All of a sudden I saw sheriff Red John / Aiming to shoot me down, / So I shot – I shot – I shot him down and I say: / If I am guilty I will pay.

Reflexes had got the better of me / And what is to be must be: / Every day the bucket goes to the well, / But one day the bottom will drop out, / Yes, one day the bottom will drop out. / I say:

I shot the sheriff. / Lord, I didn't shoot the deputy. Yeah! I shot the sheriff – / But I didn't shoot no deputy, yeah! No, yeah! / I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy. / I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy."

* * *

Everybody clapped and cheered when Jane finished, everybody but Lisbon. She was in a bit of a shock. This was the first time she'd heard him openly expressing anything regarding Red John's demise at his hands in her presence. And she felt poleaxed by the fact that he'd obviously shared quite a bit about it already with this bunch of new friends but not with her.

On the other hand – had she given him even the slightest chance to do so? Had they spent any significant amount of time with each other lately so he would have had the opportunity to talk about a serious subject like that? If she was honest with herself the answer was no. And it was not Jane's fault either. She'd been the one to shut him out, had turned down his offers to be together alone, be it on the road in his Airstream which she had yet to see the inside of, be it after hours. Just seeing him with his wedding ring and somewhat disheveled look had been enough to convince her that nothing would ever change with him. He would always be stuck in his past, too traumatized by it all to ever build a new life and also ready to run whenever the mood struck.

And with her own new beginning at the FBI, the new chances this job offered, the new people she'd met, one day she'd just decided to finally force herself to bury her hopes for a future with Jane. The only way to accomplish that had been to spend as little time with him as possible because the moment she was physically close to him, she couldn't stop herself from feeling her love for him and the deep emotional bond between them too. And that hadn't exactly been conducive to her plan to move on from him and all the baggage connected to Red John.

So she really had no reason to be peeved about the fact that Jane had looked for other people to talk with. She, his best friend, hadn't been there for him after all. And she could only guess how important it must've been for him to talk about all of this.

It hurt to think that she'd let him down like that. And she had noticed that he hadn't looked at her even once while singing. She wasn't sure about his reasons but she knew that she hadn't liked it.

* * *

She had been lost in her thoughts for a few minutes when Jane's hand squeezing hers gently brought her out of her reverie. He bent over to her and whispered in her ear, "It's gonna be okay, Teresa. We'll sort this all out. Don't worry. I needed this new perspective just like you needed to take a step back. It was necessary for both of us. But nothing can erase what we've shared and no one will ever be as close to my heart as you are, my dear."

After all these years she really shouldn' be, but once more she found herself being surprised by his uncanny ability to know exactly what she'd just been contemplating and how she felt. And his words reassured her enough to look at him. Their eyes met and just with their gazes they exchanged an unspoken vow to get through this all and make it all work. They'd always been very good communicating that way. Well, they used to be.

Jane cupped one of Teresa's cheeks tenderly, his thumb caressing her chin. She lost herself in his intense, expressive eyes. "I love you," he said quietly for her ears only.

* * *

It wasn't that much later that the party started to break up. Patrick went backstage to get his things and joined Teresa again after a few minutes, now also sporting a fitting black jeans jacket, carrying his bass guitar in a bag that also served as a backpack. He looked good enough to eat in Lisbon's opinion.

The band members left the club and took their farewells, leaving Jane and Lisbon standing alone outside. A look at Jane's wrist watch told Lisbon that it was already past 2 am and suddenly she realized that she had originally been on a date that night and had no real idea what had become of Marcus. She couldn't even remember when she'd last seen him. She felt a bit guilty and ashamed that she'd forgotten about him so completely.

"I'm sure, he got home alright, Lisbon. He's a big boy," Jane provided cheerfully, having yet again read her thoughts correctly. He shouldered his instrument. "But unfortunately I can't offer you a ride. While the Airstream is wonderful in the field, it's not the right vehicle to get around in town."

"How did you get here then?" she asked curiously.

"By bike," he replied.

She examined him carefully. "In jeans? Shouldn't you at least be wearing a leather jacket?"

"Not a motorcycle, my dear. An ordinary bike. You know, one of those contraptions where you pedal to get from A to B?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "Any more surprises for me tonight? Now you're actually doing something that requires physical activity? What's next? You gonna tell me, you've joined a Texan shooting club?"

He chuckled. "No chance for that to ever happen, Lisbon." Then he became serious. "Do you want me to call a cab for you? I… ah… where do we go from here?"

"Well, one thing's for sure: I certainly won't be riding on your handlebars, Jane," she teased, but turned solemn afterwards. "I'm not sure what I want right now," she admitted. "On the one hand I really want to be with you tonight. But so much has happened and I think I need some time to deal with it all. I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed."

He pulled her into a hug. "I understand. I'm pretty overwhelmed myself." He sighed. "But most of all I'm scared like hell that if I let you go now, you might come to your senses and realize that this isn't really what you want after all. And I don't think I would be able to live with that."

She could feel him shaking. "Oh Jane." She pulled him even closer, but was still mindful of the bass guitar on his back. "That's not gonna happen. I…," she hesitated a moment, but finally came to a decision. With new resolve and in a strong voice she continued,"I haven't said it yet, Patrick, but I love you too. So much."

After her confession two pairs of lips found each other with heated frenzy in a kiss that was passionate, but not in a strictly sexual way. It was about promise and affirmation and as deep as their love for each other, filling every nook and cranny of their bodies with warmth and profound satisfaction. It lasted until both were breathless, lips swollen, hearts beating out of their chests in perfect synch.

"Stay with me tonight, Teresa. Just... I'd love to hold you in my arms, nothing more until we're ready. Okay?" He caressed her cheek.

"Okay," she agreed. "But no funny stuff, mister."

He smiled warmly. "As long as you dance me to the end of love, I'll gladly let you take the lead."

**)T(H)F(**

**The End**

**)T(H)F(**

* * *

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